Missy's Story
by missfighter
Summary: Melissa Burroughs is tough and cold; she's needed to be. It's what kept her alive in the world of the New York streets. But when she begins living at the Lodging House, she makes an unexpected friend. An argument they have threatens her life's philosophy.


CHAPTER ONE

"Prove t'me. Prove to me you're some kinda human." His gray eyes bore into hers, soulless, immeasurable.

She did not back down.

"You been here two weeks and sold more papes than anybody else but me. You talk to no one 'cept to put 'em in their place, except for Spin. You work hard and you never sleep, at least that's what some of the girls have been sayin'. You're like a machine."

"You going somewhere with this, Cowboy?" She drew out every syllable, her lips accentuated by the rift of moonlight quartered by the Lodging House's four-paned windows.

Jack Kelly sighed. Yes, he was going somewhere, but he had no idea where the hell he was going. Maybe something about how beautiful she was, how strong. How she was one of the only girls who didn't throw herself at him, and he respected her for that more than she probably knew.

"Nobody knows nothin' about why you're here, which ain't unusual, just strange."

"I think nobody knows nothin' about why you're here, either, Jack."

That shook him. His name never sounded as good as when she said it.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." She stepped toward him, confrontational, but not angry. Her green eyes sparked with some sort of hybrid between mischief and confidence. Jack was a tough street kid; he knew better than to back up.

"They say you come an' go as you please. They say you own this goddamned town." God, she was gorgeous. Focus, Cowboy, jus' focus…

"They say you left b'cus you had to. But I think you was just scared."

Jack grinned. "Of what?"

"Yourself. You were gettin' too attached, and that shakes you more than anything. No uniform chased you out. You left because you couldn't handle the way it made you feel."

She was inches away from him now. He tasted her breath.

"I don't think I can handle the way I feel right now." His voice was quiet. She had never heard it so quiet before. This was Jack: leader of the Manhattan Newsies. He had more respect than the goddamned mayor, if you asked the right people.

And he was looking at her like…

Melissa Burroughs did not know what to say.

"You better watch it, Jack." Her voice exhibited more coldness than she felt. Heat was rising to her pale face; she cursed herself for letting it.

"I'd rather watch you," he whispered, slowly hooking two fingers to the belt loops of her trousers. She wore them like all the Newsie girls did. With all the walking they did in a working day, it would've been crazy for them to wear anything else.

He pulled her in closer, slowly- as if allowing her time to protest. When she didn't say anything, he leaned in, his mouth moving toward hers.

She turned away, and his lips brushed her cheek instead.

"Miss?" Damn. He'd messed it up. He'd ruined what had been happening - what had been about to happen, anyway.

She still wouldn't look at him.

"Missy, look at me. C'mon, honey. I'se over here."

Her big green eyes flashed toward him.

_Thank God._

"You alright, Miss?"

How the hell could she answer that? She wasn't alright. She hadn't been alright since she was about ten years old…

"Yeah, Jacky Boy." She used his old nickname. "Just fine."

CHAPTER TWO

He didn't want to leave her, but she wasn't talking. Anyway, Spin found them a few minutes later. Jack had given Missy some space after they'd almost kissed, and she seemed grateful for it. Spin brushed past him and gathered Missy like she was a child - something Jack never would have compared her to in a million years. Spin rushed her out of the corridor and into the big room in the Lodging House where all the girls slept.

Jack went up to the roof.

It was March, and a little bit colder than he would have preferred, but still bearable. A light wind tussled past him, and he leaned against the emotionless brick as if for inspiration.

"Jack?"

Jack shrugged himself awake. He must've dozed off a few minutes ago; it couldn't have been more than half an hour since he'd come up here, and already someone had startled him. He was alert usually. This was out of character for him.

The whole night was, actually.

"Sorry to wake ya."

It was Spin. Her short blond hair circled her head like a halo. She lit a cigarette, cupping the flame with her hand, and sucked the smoke into life.

"How is she?" was all he could say.

"Hey, yourself."

Spin had never liked him. Well… she _almost _never liked him. They'd spent the night together once about a year ago, after she'd been selling papes for about a month, and then he'd lost interest. She was a good kid; it'd been nothing personal. He'd thought she'd take it the same way he had. Jack was always with a different girl. He thought Spin had known that about him, before they'd gone together.

She'd taken it badly. He'd tried to smooth things over a few times - not because she was that important to him, but because living under the same roof as someone hell bent against you isn't usually a good thing. She'd never been responsive, though, so he'd given up a long time ago.

Now he didn't have time for her pretending to be offended.

"Look, Spin, as much as I know ya hate me, I'm real nervous about Missy, and I know you didn't stroll up here to tell me what a pretty night we're havin'."

There. He'd said it. He waited for her features to register hurt, or even anger, but they didn't.

"She's restin' now," Spin said. "I dunno what you did to her, but it shook her up."

"She gonna be alright?"

Spin exhaled a plume of gray smoke. "I don't think Missy's been alright in a long time, Jacky. I'll tell ya what. You go downstairs and talk to her. She sees somethin' in you that I, frankly, don't. Now maybe Miss is just better at seein' stuff than I am, or maybe she's lookin' in the wrong place, but she's my friend and I love her and I think she'd like it if you went down there and talked to her."

This was quite a speech for Spin to give Jack, and its content surprised him. Missy saw something in _him? _He was sure she hadn't cared two cents about him. She was poor, she was a runaway, too, but she had _class_. She was elegant, even when she came to the Lodging House with bruises and dressed in rags. She was the closest thing to an aristocrat that Jack had ever seen.

He didn't wait for Spin to tell him twice. He bolted toward the door, before pausing in the frame.

"Hey, Spin?"

She took a drag, no longer facing him. "Yeah?"

"Thanks, kid."

She waved him off. Jack disappeared inside.

CHAPTER THREE

Missy was upset, but she wasn't completely oblivious. She heard footsteps approaching before the door poked open, and she straightened herself up. She'd been laying, facing the empty bunk of Razor across the way, but now she sat. She knew who it was by the shuffle, and she would be damned if he'd see her like this.

Again.

"Hey, Miss."

He sounded so defeated…

Not that she cared, right? Melissa Burroughs cared for no one but herself. She was a survivor, and that was how she'd survived. She knew better than to turn her back on all that now… didn't she?

"Cowboy." She forced a smile. "You're makin' the others jealous."

He smirked. "Look, Missy, would it be all right if I, uh, if I -"

She nodded. "Yeah. It would."

He sat down on the corner of her bed, never having been so grateful that someone understood him before he could even finish explaining himself.

"I shouldn'ta done that."

"You didn't."

"What?"

"You didn't do it. You stopped yourself. Or maybe I did."

He smiled wryly. This was the Melissa he knew, and was accustomed to. The sarcastic banter, the wit. But for a moment, earlier, something had slid out from behind her calm, cool eyes. Something younger, something soft.

And it hadn't gone away yet.

"I care about you."

Why the fuck had he said that? He hadn't meant to…

She made it better, though. "I know."

"Yeah?"

"You care about anythin' that scares you."

He grinned. She was so strong. And right, too…

"Why do you scare me, Miss? Why the fuck do you scare me?" He wasn't sure if he was asking her, or himself.

In the darkness, the shape of her hand curled against his own hand. He worried that if he turned to face her, she would stop.

"I scare you," she whispered, her voice steady, "because you and me are the same thing."

He didn't want to push her away, but he had to touch her. He wanted her so fucking badly then, and her hand, her warmth, was not enough. He had to taste her.

"Jack, when I was a kid, my dad did somethin' bad…"

He listened.

"And it's over now - everybody knows it's over, because I haven't seen 'im in years and he don't know where I am now, but sometimes… people do things… I do things… and he comes back."

He reached for her and pulled her tight against him. "So help me God, if he comes near you ever again, I'll cut his fuckin' throat."

"I'm so sorry, Jack…"

"No." His voice was clear. "You did nothin' you gotta be sorry for."

She pressed against him, and he smelled good and he felt safe and warm. After a few moments she tugged him back until they were laying down, her under the blanket, him over it. And an hour passed around them, and people began to find their bunks, pretending not to notice that the leader of the Manhattan Newsies was nested with the girl who cared for Nobody, until then.

CHAPTER FOUR

He looked so innocent when he slept.

Melissa Burroughs brushed a rebellious strand of hair away from Jack's face. Asleep, he wasn't tough; he wasn't the eighteen-year-old kid who'd been locked up more times than he could remember.

She pulled the blanket over him, too. It was getting cold. He stirred. She wondered what he was dreaming about…

"Sleep good, Jack," she whispered, and lowered her lips briefly over his.


End file.
